“Yvonne, I am evoking the right to discharge you from the pack,” he growled.
“What?” she asked, her eyes going wide in shock.
The rest of the pack howled in support at this – apparently the woman had lost popularity in the past few years. Gareth couldn't keep the bitter smile from his face. He showed his teeth. “You're no longer in the pack. Get out of here... before we chase you out.”
“B-but... you can't do that!” she shrieked, though she backed away fearfully, looking around with wild eyes. “My father was pack leader! I-I... I was born to this pack! You can't make me leave it!”
“I just did,” he murmured.
A few wolves split off from the tail end of the group, barking and snarling at Yvonne's heels. She let out a shriek of terror and turned to run, Changing into her wolf-self in the process, a smaller white wolf with a long, bushy tail. Gareth could smell her fear as she skidded out into the hallway, the two other wolves following her, snapping and growling just inches from her legs. He knew they wouldn't hurt her; it was to ensure that she went far and never returned. One final threat for if she ever entered their territory again.
When he turned back to the pack, he met Isak's eyes and nodded. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “It had to be done.”
“We may be related by blood,” Isak answered solemnly, “but her heart was lost to me long ago. Perhaps this will teach her to respect the laws.”
Gareth nodded, relieved by his Beta's support. Then he turned to the rest of the pack, which were now waiting expectantly, either sitting on their haunches or relaxing on the ground. “Alright,” he said. “So I think it's time to weed out the competition. Isak, help me pick out which wolves were Kane's group... we don't need any rivalry in this pack.”
Isak nodded and immediately started going through the wolves – the ones he touched began to Change back to their human form, looking small and frightened, whimpering submissively. Gareth glanced at the horizon, seeing a dim ring of light in the east. It would take another hour at least to dispel all of the rival wolves from his pack, and then ensure that they left his territory... Maddy would just have to wait. He would be able to track her down easily, after all. He would never forget her smell.
He turned back to the pack and focused on the task at hand. The sooner he could finish with this, the sooner he could find her.
* * * *
Maddy had found her way to the bus station.
A middle-aged lady driving down the street had offered her a ride, and she had accepted, asking what the easiest way to Black River was. “Without a car, you'll need Greyhound,” the woman had responded, and had taken her to the only bus station in town. Maddy had found the twenty-dollar bill still rolled up in her pocket, and had used it to buy herself a ticket to Black River. Her hands still burned where Gareth had touched her skin, and she had to clamp down on her body's response, telling herself to forget the feeling of him inside of her. She was angry, hurt, betrayed – and his sexual nature was not going to make her forgive him, as it had every time before. She needed space to think. She needed to be home and in familiar territory, where she wasn't reliant on him.
The bus arrived twenty minutes later and she climbed aboard, relieved to sit down in a warm seat. Soon Davenport was rushing by her, the dirty buildings, the laundromats and liquor stores. She didn't know what time it was, but the sun rose late at this time of year, so she guessed it was a little after 6 a.m. The city was slowly waking up, more and more cars flooding the streets, the sidewalks becoming more crowded. Then the bus hit the highway and traveled towards the mountains, and she relaxed, reassured when she saw the “You are Leaving Davenport” sign by the side of the freeway. Leaving Davenport, leaving Gareth. The thought brought a sharp pain to her chest, but she didn't let herself cry. She had been a fool to follow him out here, anyway. She hardly knew who he was.
A man paused by her seat, looking down at her, and it took Maddy a long moment to return the gaze. It was a skinny fellow with matted brown hair and in need of a shave.
“Going to Black River?” he asked. “Me too. Been living there for years. Say, weren't you on the news?”
She glared. “None of your business,” she growled, thinking she sounded more like a wolf than she had intended. She wondered if it had to do with the new senses she had gained from Gareth.
“Jeez, fine.” The man put up his hands defensively and continued past to his seat. “Bitch,” he muttered a second later, though she knew she wouldn't have heard him if it hadn't been for her increased hearing.
She settled back against the window and closed her eyes, intending to sleep. Her body was exhausted from the turbulent emotions and Gareth's unorthodox claiming. She clutched the leftover coins in her pocket as she drifted off to sleep, her eyes closing automatically, her mind shutting down. Her last thoughts were of him, whether or not he'd follow her now that he had his pack. She wondered if he would choose Yvonne over her — at least the she-wolf had stayed by his side. She didn't know enough about him to guess what he might do.
She drifted off into unsettled dreams.
* * * *
He found his keys by the wall.
Searching for them had wasted another precious thirty minutes or so. He had decided to take hs car since he could smell her with the window open, despite the overlaying exhaust and fumes. She was his lifemate after all – he could probably smell her underwater if he had to.
“Shall I go with you?” Isak offered, hovering next to the car as he started the engine.
“No, you need to stay here with the pack, get them settled in while I move everything from Black River... I'll contact you when I find her.” He backed the car up and then headed for the road, giving a slight wave from his window. Then he started driving, following her scent as it led him randomly through the streets. Guilt tore at him as he followed her path – it was like stalking a wounded, terrified animal. Just by her route, he could tell that she was exhausted and worn down. He needed to be with her, to ensure that she was safe. Werewolves aside, there were plenty of other dangers for a young girl in a rundown place like this.
Then he reached a point where her scent dimmed to almost nothing, and he knew that she had gotten into a car. So he picked out the car's scent and followed that instead, fear and anger rising inside of him – if she had been abducted or worse, he would kill the bastard that laid a hand on her....
But after a few turns and merging onto a main street, he recognized the route. His blood grew cold. She hadn't actually... he hadn't thought she would....
He arrived at the bus station. It was semi-crowded with the early-morning rush, and he parked illegally along the curb, jumping out and dashing to the ticket-seller. He shoved his way in front of the line until he reached the window of the booth; it was ran by a small old man, who looked up at him with cautious eyes. Robberies probably weren't uncommon in this part of town.
“Did you see a girl here about two hours ago, a young thing, red hair and blue eyes? She was probably wearing a leather jacket.”
The man frowned for a moment, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Can't say I remember... how do you know this girl, sir?”
Gareth knew the man remembered her – he could smell it on him. He hesitated before saying, “I'm her husband.” That was the human term, wasn't? Boyfriend just didn't go far enough.
The man's face lit up slightly. “Ah, alright. Walked out on you, did she? Seen it a thousand times. You're not alone.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully and rummaged through the receipts on his desk. “Yes, she left earlier this morning. Took a ticket to Black River, I do recall.”
Gareth nodded and headed back for the Camaro. So she had fled to Black River.... She had an hour on him at least, and no matter how fast he sped, he wouldn't overtake her. He might as well slow down for a moment, think of where she would go once she was back in town. She was running from him, so he doubted she would be at his house. She wouldn't go to school in the emotional state she was in – she d
itched enough as it was. Which only left one alternative.
And her stepfather might be home this time.
The memory of the scars on her back was clear in his mind, and Gareth climbed into the car, starting the engine and roaring down the street, on his way to the freeway. He had to reach her before she got to her stepfather, because he knew how the minds of men worked, especially the minds of cruel sons-of-bitches. She would go there because she had nowhere else to turn to, and if that man laid one finger on her....
He couldn't think straight anymore. Slamming on the gas, he merged onto the freeway, heading for the fast lane. His eyes scanned the horizon for buses – there were none. Dammit, he had to go faster!
The sun was already creeping over the mountain, blazing with dawn's glory. He would make it in time. He had to.
Chapter 15
Maddy arrived in Black River around 10am. She was hungry and still exhausted, but all she could think about was getting home. She thought about the possibility of rotting wolf carcasses in her cabin, but she figured that the police had probably found them by now. She just wanted to go home, curl up on what was left of her couch, and go to sleep. She just wanted life to go back to the way it used to be.
The streets were fairly empty at this hour. Most people were either at work or school, so she didn't run into anyone she knew. After twenty minutes of walking she reached the outskirts of town, then started up the road that would sooner or later lead to her driveway. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about Gareth, wondering what he was doing now, if he was coming after her at all or happily holed up with Yvonne. She hadn't fit in very well over there, anyway. She was too soft, too inexperienced — all too human to play their games. Maybe she would see him again someday, though she doubted he would be stay in Black River much longer. He had his pack to return to. The wolf senses were still thrumming inside of her, though less extreme now than they had been. She could hear every rustle in the forest, recognize mouse tracks through the grass, the scent of a female deer twenty paces off the road. A cold wind blew and she pulled his leather jacket closer around her. She was glad she had kept it. It was a piece of him, the last piece she would ever have of him.
Best to get over him quickly and just let go, she told herself. She had dealt with disappointment before – maybe this was the biggest let-down of her life, but she knew she could handle it. Day by day, she would survive. It was the only thing she could do.
Finally she reached her driveway and started toward her house. Five minutes later she was standing in front of her cabin; the door was back on its hinges and the safety tape had been removed. There was a plastic bag covering the broken window. She paused, her ears twitching as she listened intently to the surrounding forest. She didn't sense anyone in the cabin, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Her eyes searched the driveway, but there was no truck peeking out from behind the house. Wherever he was, her stepfather wasn't home.
She let herself into the house with a sigh of relief. The door was locked and she had to use her key – she was surprised to find that it was still in the pocket of her jeans, long forgotten. She opened the door and the smell of sanitizer hit her nostrils. When she entered the front room, she found that it was still in a mess, though at least the blood had been cleaned up from the floor and there were no bodies to be found. She figured the cops had cleaned up a bit before leaving, thus the chemical smell in the air.
She walked through the small house first, making sure it was empty, then she stripped Gareth's jacket off and flung it on the couch. After that she collected some fresh clothes and walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower. She stripped off her jeans and relaxed under the hot water. The tension slowly flowed from her muscles and she ceased to think – she imagined the water washing away the past few days, cleansing her from the panic and desperation.
When she was done soaping down and washing her hair, she stepped out of the shower and dressed herself, toweling off her hair gently. She left the bathroom with a sigh, walking across the wooden floor to the main room. She would check to see if the electricity had been turned on again, and if not, she would have to head down to the main building to pay the bills. She would have to use her meager savings to cover it; she was not staying in this cabin at night when the lights wouldn't turn on.
She heard a sound from the kitchen and immediately froze. Her head shot up.
Her stepfather stood in front of the fridge, his eyes wide and blurry, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a cigar in the other. He seldom smoked cigars – only when he had money. But where had the money come from?
She hadn't heard him come in. His hair was frizzy and short, with a prominent bald spot on top. It puffed out at the sides of his head like a demented clown. His eyes were small and mean, hidden in a face full of premature wrinkles and a bulbous nose. When he spoke, the alcohol on his breath hit her from across the room. With her heightened wolf senses, it made her want to puke.
“There you are,” he slurred, taking another drink. “I was so worried about my baby girl... those men attacked you, did they?”
Yeah, and you sold me out, she thought, though she didn't say it out loud. She didn't want to provoke his anger; for all that she had changed while with Gareth, here at home she was still a terrified eleven-year-old, wondering what she had done wrong.
“I've been staying at a friend's,” she said, wondering if he had noticed her absence. She didn't know when he had gotten back, but she hadn't been gone for very long.
“Huh,” he grunted, and came around the counter, entering the living room. She resisted the urge to back away. He set his glass down and took a step towards her, his arms spread wide. It took her a long moment to realize what he was doing, and then she just stood there, stunned. “How about giving your old man a hug, eh? I was worried about my little girl.”
Maddy felt the hair stand on her arms. She had never hugged her stepfather, not since her mother's death. She had always blamed him for the suicide, too, though she had been so young when it had happened that she barely spent time thinking about it. She hesitated now, staring at his open arms, wondering what he was playing at. Finally she took a careful step forward and went to give him a hug.
His arms closed around her, making her heart hammer, and then suddenly she smelled it. A chemical smell, leaking from his pocket, so strong that it felt like a nail rammed up her nose. His hand was reaching for it, and suddenly he was trying to grab her and hold her still. With a shriek of surprise, she thrust away from him, breaking her hold easily and scrambling backwards until she caught her balance on the wall.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, her heart hammering, her breath scraping through her lungs. The heady fumes of the drug were effecting her even though she hadn't fully inhaled it.
“Doing you a favor,” he slurred, and she recognized the irritation in his voice, the sadistic glint in his eye as he stumbled after her. The iodine rag was forgotten on the floor, and now he reached for her with thick, pudgy fingers. “Some nice men said they would take you off my hands, give you a good life, a new life, Maddy.” She ducked around the couch and he followed, amazingly dexterous for a drunk man. “I haven't been the father you deserve, you know... just couldn't man up to it.” His voice was still wheedling. “Come now, baby girl, come to papa....”
“Don't make me sick!” she yelled, circling until she had the back door in sight. She had to get out of this room, but her anger was holding her from fleeing. A week ago, she would have left at the first sign of him being drunk, but his final words had caused a bubble to burst in her brain. She turned on him, glaring, fighting the urge to roar. “You haven't been the father I deserve?” she mocked. “You're not even a fucking man, you're just some scared little boy who has to beat on girls!” She ducked his hands again, pulling back, keeping the couch between them. “Your heart is probably as big as your tiny prick, you bastard!”
“Shut up, cunt!” her stepfather roared, provoked into a drunken
rage. He wasn't thinking straight anymore, she could tell by the way his eyes darted around, glaring evilly out from under bushy eyebrows. “You think I wanted to raise a dumb shit kid all by myself? I kept you cuz I couldn't stand to throw you out with the trash... but now I know I should've, for all the trouble you've caused. I never cared about you, never!” He grinned suddenly, as though having had a brilliant thought. “Your mom never cared either. That's why she up and choked.”
Maddy saw red. Before she could think, she flung herself across the couch, scratching and kicking at him as hard as she could. She couldn't think clearly; all she knew was that she wanted to hurt him, bruise him, scar him in the way he had scarred her, both physically and mentally. She wanted to leave a mark on him, something he would never forget, something he would regret until the day he died.
“You asshole!” she shrieked, and raked her fingers across his face, her fingernails drawing blood.
“Bitch!” and he grabbed her hair, the same old process, dragging her down to the ground. She fought him this time, though – she didn't fold like a weak little girl, didn't roll over and play dead. Instead she punched him, trying to hit him in the balls, get him where it would hurt the most.
He grabbed her hands and threw her against the wall, and her head cracked back, hitting the wood hard. She momentarily saw stars. The next time she focused, she had sunk to the floor, her knees curled under her. He had a firm hold on her hair, and his hand drew back.
Smack! The force of the blow across her face left her head spinning. She couldn't breathe for a moment. Smack! Again, across the face. She could already feel the tender skin bruising, her lip swelling, her eye shutting defensively.
“You know why your mother killed herself?” her stepfather taunted, drunkenly slurring. “Because the bitch didn't want you. She didn't want a daughter like you and a husband like me. She was scared of it, Madeline. Scared of this happening... and guess what? It happened anyway.” He smacked her again, and she lashed out this time, ramming her hand against his throat. He let out a roar of anger and dropped down next to her then. His hands went to her neck, squeezing tightly, cutting off her airway. She couldn't breathe, but she struggled anyway like a wild animal. Her heightened senses could tell that through his adrenaline, he was breathing hard, tired. If she just twisted enough... if she just fought back, he would collapse sooner or later. He was too drunk and exhausted to do much more.